


Make Me

by GrannyBoo



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Bondage, Bratty Sub!Caleb, Creampie, M/M, Mid-scene negotiation, Porn with Feelings, Safe Word Use, Warning: Use of safewords, dom!Fjord, sub!Caleb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 15:53:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20623622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrannyBoo/pseuds/GrannyBoo
Summary: “Behave,” Fjord’s voice rumbles through the room like distant thunder, sending a shiver up Caleb’s spine. Normally he’d go slack in Fjord’s grip, more than happy to submit. Instead he pulls at the grip on his hair, pressing further into the pressure against his throat just enough to restrict his breath and so Fjord feels the words more than hears them.“Make Me.”-





	Make Me

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Stillisee’s lovely nsfw-ish widofjord art on twitter. Mind the tags, hope y’all enjoy <3

Word have a power all their own. Commands from the booming voices of generals across a war zone, chanted by arcanists bending nature itself to its will. Whispered by a lover in the throws of passion.

Those pale in comparison to the visceral tug at Fjord’s very core when Caleb speaks, marked on the tantalisingly exposed swaths of pale skin by Fjord’s teeth, the rest flushed prettily beneath the firm but not painful grip the half-orc has on Caleb’s throat. His thumb rests on the steady, if quickly, beating pulse just under the human’s jaw, remaining steady even as Caleb cranes his neck forward just enough to try to graze his teeth over Fjord’s wrist.

It races when verdant fingers tangle in Caleb’s hair and tugs it back harshly, an unbidden groan slipping from Caleb’s lips while he composes himself, opening his lust-blown eyes he didn’t realise had closed to meet Fjord’s gaze again with a smirk.

“Behave,” Fjord’s voice rumbles through the room like distant thunder, sending a shiver up Caleb’s spine. Normally he’d go slack in Fjord’s grip, more than happy to submit. Instead he pulls at the grip on his hair, pressing further into the pressure against his throat just enough to restrict his breath and so Fjord feels the words more than hears them.

_“Make Me_.”

While infrequent, Fjord is familiar with nights like this.

Ones where his hand needs to be firmer, his tongue sharper, and Caleb needs to be forced into submission; grounded from where his mind is railing against his own self-control by an outside force. Working himself into a stupor works for the most part. But sometimes his focus is lacking, stretched beyond his books and spells, stretched across the world at large and that’s where Fjord is needed.

To press Caleb further into the wall and give no inches, lest Caleb take a thousand miles.

“Colour.”

“Green,” Caleb’s voice is a purr, amused and awaiting the attention he knows is coming, but his expression falters, just a moment, eyes narrowing as he looks into Fjord’s. Gauging. Assessing. “Colour?”

Fjord allows himself a brief slip of his persona, releasing Caleb’s hair just enough so his thumb can trace the side of the human’s temple; gentle and reassuring.

“Green, darling.”

Caleb gives a brief nod of acknowledgement, the smile returning. Then there’s a split moment where Caleb rolls his hips into Fjord’s, the space Fjord created unknowingly giving him enough leverage to work in before Fjord presses in harder, hand returning to Caleb’s hair and holding him against the wall, every inch in contact.

“Is this a Cord Night, or a Harness Night?”

Caleb presses against the wall of Fjord’s body. If Fjord didn’t know better, he’d assume Caleb was testing Fjord’s hold on him. Because he does, he knows Caleb is testing how much firmer that hold needs to be.

“Cord.”

Fjord nods, maintaining most of the contact he has with Caleb as he releases his hair and reaches for the side table, opening the topmost drawer to retrieve a familiar red length of cord. Caleb’s body rocks against Fjord’s, practically vibrating with anticipation as his hands are positioned, wrists together in supplication and held together by the rope wrapped once- twice- three times around his wrists before he pulls Caleb away from the wall. He releases the hold on his throat and trails his hand down, gathering the lightweight fabric of Caleb’s shirt in his fist and directing him to the centre of the room.

“On your knees,” Fjord orders, receiving only silence and stillness as a reply, a challenging twist to the human’s expression. He releases Caleb’s shirt and presses at his shoulders, until he has no choice but to sink to the ground, nipping at Fjord’s belly petulantly, irritated by the presence of the shirt between him and the smooth flesh he’s so familiar with.

“You’ll get what I give you, when I give it to you, Caleb,” Fjord warns, hand cupping the back of Caleb’s head before forcing it down so his gaze is directed to the floor, seeing little more than Fjord’s boots and the rug he’s kneeling on. “Now _wait_.”

Caleb is tempted to disobey, but the temptation is second to the curiosity he has at what Fjord has in store. His knowledge of knots is extensive and rarely leaves a dissatisfying result, the array of marks on his skin when they’re finally done giving Caleb a pleasant warmth in his chest and gut at having a reminder for the days to come.

He waits, with barely maintained patience as Fjord poses him, arms bent back over his head, wrists secured so his thumbs rest against the nape of his neck and the cord feeds down to wrap around his ribs, the knots and webbed style applying firm pressure over his ribs and waist even through his clothes. Caleb rolls his hips as Fjord kneels down in front of him to secure the rope around his thighs, teeth finding Fjord’s shoulder a little harder than teasing and he receives a sharp look in response. Fjord’s eyes resemble steel more than gold at that moment. Unmalleable.

Caleb retracts.

Fjord has a hard limit about pain through punishment. Sometimes Caleb wants it; wants Fjord to bend him over his knee and leave him red and throbbing and then stop there but that rarely came from a good place and Fjord knows that. In the rare cases Fjord’s control does snap, his punishments border on ruthless in Caleb’s mind, without ever leaving a mark; leaving Caleb bound, hard and wanting in the room while Fjord goes about menial tasks, so close but never quite touching until Caleb begs ‘mercy’. This look is a warning.

At times its something he needs, to be kept within reach but forced to keep himself still and wait out the stubborn petulance that makes him act out against Fjord’s instruction.

“I am sorry, sir.”

Tonight is not one of those nights. He needs that pressure, that contact. Fjord understands. He always does. So he runs his fingers through Caleb’s hair in lieu of a verbal acknowledgment and finishes his work as Caleb lets out a relieved sigh at the steadiness of the ropes crisscrossing over his body, his head falling forward so his chin rests against his chest. Fjord stands and leans to grab the chair by the desk, positioning it just in front of Caleb and taking a seat. His claws scrape pleasantly against Caleb’s scalp for a moment before he tugs on his hair again, redirecting Caleb’s gaze.

“Can you control your teeth enough to take my cock?”

“…Yes, sir.”

“Good. If you behave, I’ll give you a reward. Are you going to behave for me, sweetheart?” Fjord’s word settle against Caleb skin pleasantly as he eyes the cloth that’s keeping him from his next task.

Caleb’s silence has Fjord tightening his grip on his hair.

“I need an answer.”

“…I do not think I can.”

Fjord’s hums in consideration, looking down at Caleb as he swipes his thumb over his lover’s lower lip.

“Thank you for your honesty…You’ll hold still while I fuck your mouth. Then, once you’ve settled, you can warm my cock for a while until I’m ready to fuck you. Understood?”

Caleb feels the syrupy warmth of the submissive headspace grasp at him, coaxing him away from the antsy feeling that had been dogging him, robbing him of his focus all day and it feels like a sweet release of some of that tension when he nods.

“Good. Open,” Fjord orders and Caleb follows the instruction, keeping his mouth open even as Fjord’s thumb presses against his tongue, an insufficient pressure in comparison to what’s on offer but Caleb manages to contain himself as he watches Fjord unlace his pants, not removing them but pushing them aside just enough to expose his half-hard cock. He gives himself a couple of glancing strokes before pressing the tip against Caleb’s lips, savouring the sight of the human’s lips stretching around him. Its grounding; the pressure of Fjord’s length pressing into his mouth and deeper still into the back of his throat, focusing on nothing more than taking what Fjord gives him. The most focus he’s had all day on a single task.

“Now, stay still,” Caleb feels Fjord’s free hand slide into his bound ones and Caleb instinctively grips it. They’ve played this game before. Hold on during, squeeze once for yes, twice for no, three times to pause, release to stop. The instructions run through his head as he squeezes once, and Fjord starts to move. Its slow at first, ensuring Caleb gets used to the full feeling of Fjord sliding into his throat. Then he picks up speed and Caleb closes his eyes, letting his jaw go lax against the onslaught as the staticky hum starts to bleed into his awareness and the nervous energy that had been plaguing him starts to fade.

Caleb isn’t sure how long he kneels there, Fjord fucking his throat. Saliva drips down his chin, the bitter taste of pre-cum hovers in the back of his throat and Fjord, erection thick and straining against the confines of Caleb’s throat, stops its brutal assault to rest as deep as he could press in, just holding it there so Caleb’s nose is buried in the dark curls at the base of his cock. Caleb whines around it, pulling away just a little to continue the motion but Fjord stops him with a sharp tug of his hair.

“That isn’t behaving, Caleb,” Fjord’s words are more fond teasing than sharp reprimand so Caleb lets himself look up, meeting Fjord’s gaze and hoping the expression on his face and the way he swallows around Fjord gives away his meaning. “You need more?”

One squeeze.

“Spoilt,” he breathes.

One squeeze.

Fjord chuckles, the rock of his hips returning, this time a little less harsh and just enjoying the way Caleb nudges forward to meet him. A small transgression that Fjord allows because it seems to help, until finally, when Fjord stops, Caleb is still, shifting a little to just breathe every now and then. Caleb doesn’t even register when exactly Fjord sits down in the chair, just the soothing rasp of his claws against his scalp as they card through his hair and the pleased hum when Caleb settles against him, the hand gripped between his tracing nonsense symbols into the sensitive underside of his wrists that peek out from beneath the cord.

Fjord’s words are background noise, just a pleasant rumble that filters in with little meaning at that moment, beyond the occasional praise he makes out, and his name. Then Fjord’s hand tries to pull out of his and he scrambles to keep it in place, if nothing else, just to have another point of contact.

“Do you want to stay there, sweetheart?” Fjord’s voice is low and quiet, not wanting to break the peace they’d managed to establish in their room. Caleb hums and squeezes once, hesitates and squeezes three times. Fjord pulls his lips away, wiping some of the saliva from his chin. “You alright, darling?”

“Only a little longer? Please?”

“Are you sure?” Caleb nods, leaning into Fjord’s palm when he touches his cheek. “Alright. Tell me when you want to stop,” he reminds, bringing Caleb’s head back down until he’s buried in his throat again. Caleb squeezes once.

It’s a while before Caleb squeezes three times, the ache between his legs outweighing the warmth clouding his mind and reminding him of Fjord’s offer.

“You ready to stop?” Fjord asks, sitting up properly while Caleb rests his head against his still clothed thigh. They’re both at the same level of undress, which is ‘abysmally low’. Caleb’s erection strains against his breeches and his skin aches for bare contact with Fjord’s.

“Yes, sir.”

He feels Fjord hunch over in the chair, just enough to press a gentle kiss to his hair.

“I’m going to untie you now, is that okay, sweetheart?” Fjord murmurs and Caleb nods, holding himself still while Fjord starts the lengthy process of removing the ropes. The feel of Fjord’s fingers grazing against him, separated by only thin layers of cloth is maddening and delightful all at once and Caleb can’t help the whine that escapes his lips. Once the rope is no longer keeping him in place, Caleb melts against Fjord, standing upright on shaky legs when Fjord tugs him to his feet but straying no more than a few inches from his lover’s warmth.

“So good for me, took my cock so well,” Fjord’s voice is a rumble beneath Caleb’s cheek as he rest his head on his chest, skin flushing at the praise. He feels the half-orc’s fingers tracing up and down his spine, unable to resist the urge to arch his back, trying to bring Fjord’s path lower and lower until it grazes his belt. “Do you want something, Caleb?”

Fjord pulls away a little, a crooked finger tilting his chin up so he can look into Caleb’s eyes, almost unable to see the blue outlining his blown pupils.

“Want you to fuck me. Hold me down,_ ruin me_,” Caleb keens, each plea breathed against Fjord’s lips and punctuated with a grind of their hips, desperate for firmer contact between them. He waits while Fjord looks over him, gaze cool and detached, making Caleb question whether he should get back down on his knees.

“…I think you’ve earned it, darling,” the hand supporting his chin curls around his cheek and Caleb can’t help but nuzzle into the contact, tongue peeking out to lathe against Fjord’s thumb, a whine on his lips as Fjord pulls away with a brief kiss to his temple. “Go lie down and start preparing yourself. I’ll be right there. Promise,” he adds, giving Caleb a small encouraging smile. Caleb follows the instruction, grabbing the oil from the same drawer the rope had been taken from and undressing. He can feel Fjord’s eyes on him, even as the half-orc snuffs out the candles and replaces the chair, busying himself as Caleb lies down on the wide expanse of the bed, oil-slick fingers pressing into his hole and providing at least some measure of relief from the steady pulse of heat in his belly. But not enough, _more, he needs more_.

“Gods you’re a gorgeous sight,” Fjord sits on the bed beside Caleb’s hip, skin bared and eyes heated as he looks down at Caleb, watching the slow movements of his hand, stroking over his stomach, trailing further and further down until his fingers are skirting the edges of Caleb’s groin, wrapping his hand around the man’s aching erection. Caleb can’t help the gasp, his free hand wrapping around Fjord’s wrist- not to stop him or speed him up, no, to help ground him as he’s stimulated from both sides.

“I’ve-“ Caleb’s voice is hoarse, rough from the abuse from earlier and its delightful, knowing he’ll be talking like this for at least a few hours- an audible reminder of his time on his knees. “You said I was good?” He asks, uncertainty bleeding into his tone that has Fjord kneeling over his lover, nosing at the marks on his neck.

“So very good for me. I’m getting distracted, sorry darling. You do that to me, you make it hard to do anything but watch you- so pretty, so good for me,” he purrs, grazing his teeth and tusks over the stretch of throat Caleb exposes for him. “Haven’t had the chance to cut my claws recently, so I’m gonna have to check you’re ready for me,” there’s a hint of something devious in his tone that makes Caleb’s heart race in the best way and he has to bite at the meat of his fist as he watches Fjord move down the length of his body, repositioning Caleb’s legs so they rest over his shoulders.

“_Fjord_-“

“I’ll fuck you in good time, sweetheart, I promise,” Fjord’s eyes close and Caleb feels the slick press of his tongue against his hole, a filthy mimicry of what Caleb really wants that has his writhing, heels pressing into Fjord’s spine as he whines and gasps and _writhes_, until Fjord’s hands press firmly against his belly and hip, forcing him still.

“You did so well, all slick and stretched for me,” Fjord drags his tongue over Caleb’s hole one more time before he moves back to his knees, Caleb’s legs falling to rest against his hips. He gasps as Fjord runs his claws over the pale skin of his thigh, watching the man beneath him shiver. It’s a heady feeling, having Fjord so focused on him, eyes tracing over his body so intently he can almost feel it as a caress and he can’t help but arch his back to give Fjord something worth his attention, his legs tightening around Fjord’s hips so the delicious promise of his erection presses against him.

“I know, I know. No covering your mouth this time, understand? I want to hear it. Want to hear how badly you need my cock,” Fjord gives Caleb’s hips a gentle squeeze as he adjusts their position staying upright and manhandling Caleb’s lower half so he’s partially inclined in his lap. The sigh Caleb releases when Fjord finally presses in is nothing short of blissful, arms resting above his head in a facsimile of earlier, the full feeling and the just short of bruising grip Fjord has on his hips is a good start to bringing back that mindless haze from earlier. He’s not fully seated, taking his time rocking in and out of Caleb to draw out the process.

Caleb bucks his hips, a small curl to his lips making Fjord hum and his grip tighten.

“Not done with the cheek yet, hm?”

A rock of Caleb’s hips to push Fjord in deeper is met with a firmer grip, one that will almost certainly leave bruises and sends a thrill up Caleb’s spine.

“Do I need the cord again? Keep you still while I fuck you?”

“You make it sound like a punishment.”

“It will be,” Fjord warns, curling down to grip Caleb’s jaw and force him their eye contact. “Good boys get to touch, they get to come. Misbehave and you get neither.”

The part of Caleb still roiling in his chest, pushing against Fjord’s instruction, jerks his head, pressing against the pressure against his jaw, upper lip curling in a sneer.

“Do it.”

There's silence for a few breathless moments, Fjord’s hand twitching against Caleb's jaw.

“Yellow,” Fjord’s voice cuts through the silence, quiet and bitten out. Fjord’s domineering persona has dropped and he can't quite meet Caleb's gaze, his hand dropping from Caleb's throat to the bed beside his waist. The warm ache in Caleb’s gut goes cold and he pulls away from Fjord as he sits up, hands cradling the half-orc’s cheeks.

“What’s wrong?”

Fjord rests his forehead against Caleb’s, shaking his head.

“It’s- never mind, its okay. I’m fine-“

“_Schatz_, do not trivialise your feelings. What is wrong?”

“…I don’t want to punish you.“

“Denying me is not a punishment.”

“Why does it feel like one?” Fjord can’t help the way his body shrinks a little, spiralling a little further into his self-doubt.

“You don’t have to,” Caleb murmurs, pressing his lips to Fjord’s brow. “I…I need control, I need focus.”

“More than I can give you-“

“Don’t. You do so much for me, _Bärchen_,” the affirmation doesn’t sit as well as Caleb would like, Fjord giving a half-hearted shrug in reply as he rests his head against Caleb’s shoulder. “I do not want you to feel like you have to cater to me at your own expense. I need focus, so let me focus on _you_ this time, Fjord.”

“…Are you sure?” Caleb feels the words more than hears them, pressed into his shoulder and he can’t help but pull Fjord in a little closer.

“Please let me take care of you, _Schatz_. You said I was good before…may I have my reward?” Caleb asks, his voice syrup-sweet and hands gentle against Fjord’s skin as he strokes down his shoulders, arms, tracing symbols into his skin on his way down to his hands so he can bring Fjord’s hands to his lips, pressing his lips to each finger.

“Of course, darling,” Fjord sits up, giving Caleb a small, grateful smile. “Thank you,” he whispers against Caleb’s lips as he gives him a chaste kiss.

“Its alright. I’d like to ride you, please. May I, sir?” Caleb purrs, slipping back into the scene with little difficulty, keeping their lips in contact as he controls Fjord’s hands, dragging them over his skin, grazing his nipples and sighing with a smile when Fjord tightens his grip around his hips, the certainty not entirely back in his voice back enough that Caleb knows he’ll feel better once they resume.

“Only if you continue to behave.”

Caleb nods, following Fjord’s lead as the half-orc sits back, reclined against the pillows and the headboard while he coaxes Caleb into his lap. Fjord can’t help the pleased rumble in his chest as he presses his length in once more, eyes closed and measuring his breaths as he takes in the fullness.

“Maybe you need this next time,” Fjord muses, rocking his hips to elicit a quiet gasp from Caleb. “To just be stretched and filled. Give you nothing more than my cock to focus on, hm?” Caleb lets out a groan as Fjord pulls him down by the hips, the bite of his claws bordering on pain but never quite crossing the line, leaving Caleb writhing in his lap.

“Please, sir.”

“Such good manners now. What do you say Caleb? Now that I’m giving you your reward?” Fjord’s hand do little more than grip onto Caleb’s hips, helping him rise and fall on his cock, the promise of his knot just on the edge of his hole.

“_Danke shoen, _sir_. Da-danke_,” he lets out a pitchy gasp at the way Fjord snaps his hips up into him, meeting each downward thrust with a grind of his own.

“So good for me. That’s it, I want to see you come apart, darling,” Fjord’s voice is velvet against Caleb’s skin, sending goosebumps running over his flesh as he digs his fingers into Fjord’s shoulders.

Caleb picks up the pace, urging Fjord’s fingers to close tighter around his hips, for him to fuck deeper into him and Fjord obliges. The thrum of his heartbeat in his ears barely muffles the sound of Fjord’s praise and grunts as they work themselves into a fervour, until Caleb is grinding down into Fjord’s lap, begging him to come.

“Where, sweetheart?”

“In me, please, _mark me Schatz,_” Caleb’s words are pressed into Fjord’s shoulder as he trembles in Fjord’s arms, just on the edge of completion but clinging to Fjord until he follows him over that edge.

“So good to me, sweetheart. And _mine_. Just mine, aren’t you?”

“_Ja_,” Caleb sobs, babbling a string of ‘please’ and ‘close’ until finally, Fjord pulls him close, burying himself deep into Caleb’s ass and filling him, nuzzling the sweaty, flushed skin of shoulder as he whispers words of encouragement as Caleb comes with a choked cry, the sticky warmth coating their bellies. Caleb pants as he drifts down from his high, rocking his hips to feel the warm slickness of Fjord inside him before they have to separate.

“You good?” Fjord’s question punctuated by gentle kisses to Caleb’s shoulders, receiving a pleased hum in response. “Lets get cleaned up. Its late,” he suggests, but Caleb’s arms tighten around him just a little more.

“A little longer. Please?”

Fjord smiles and settles back against the headboard with Caleb in his arms.

“Alright.”


End file.
